


Even if you are victorious (you will still be filled with poison)

by toitsu



Series: This cold part of the world [2]
Category: Thor - Fandom
Genre: Loki is just made to be broken, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, humiliating, murdering infants, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toitsu/pseuds/toitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will give as good as he gets.</p><p>*</p><p>But that was before his skin turned blue.</p><p>What exactly happened on Jotunheim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even if you are victorious (you will still be filled with poison)

**Author's Note:**

> The problem with writting the ending first is trying to force the beginning to actually end up there. 
> 
> This was hard to write. I hope it turned out alright.
> 
> Title from a song 'Even if you are victorious' by Yonderboi

He is not like Thor. He is not a solid rock, not a sharp steel. Rocks can crumble. Steel can break. He is shadow. He is water. He is water. He is water. He repeats the mantra. He is water.

 

The Jotun monster leers at him, but Loki will not be intimidated. They had made a deal – with a cheating, dishonorable savage, it turns out – but there is a deal. Loki is not Thor, but he is not a coward, either.

 

The monster wastes no time in leading him to a – what? His chamber? His house – if it can be called such – is just columns of ice, no roof, no real walls. Can't expect better, he supposes, from such brutish, primitive race.

 

'Strip, little prince', the voice is like cold winter winds trapped in tunnel. Loki will not be intimidated. The request is not surprising, and he even rolls his eyes.

 

(Weird, he doesn't feel cold, even though it's snowing and he stands among ice.)

 

'On the bed'

 

Bed? Why, he must be reffering to the lump of snow over there – long enough that someone like frost giant can lie down. Filthy savages, all of them.

 

The monster touches him. He will not flinch, even if his body freezes over.

 

His skin turns blue where Jotun touches him.

 

_His skin turns blue._

The hand is retreated, and the monster looks at him just a little bit varily. Loki keeps the shock of his face. Magic, he concludes. My magic is protecting me.

 

Jotun makes a weird gesture, something like shrugging his shoulders, and lays a finger on Loki's face.

 

'What is the meaning of this?', sharp, like winter wind cutting into broken bone.

 

Loki smiles. 'Magic, of course', he says sweetly. 'Wouldn't want me to freeze and miss all the fun, would you?'

 

That's not the response the monster was looking for, obviously, but it seems satisfied with the explanation.

 

He is pushed down and he thinks, again, I'm water.

 

_This is not his magic._

This time shock slips through his mask, but it coincedes with a hand reaching between his legs.

 

_This is not his magic._

More and more of his skin turns blue, but he can feel – it's not his doing, subconscious or not. How, then? What is it?

 

But then there is a more pressing matter – literally. The monster looms over him, twice his size, or even more and – he can adapt. He is water. He is water. Water can't crumble. Water can't break. He can adapt.

 

Brute is not gentle, not at all. Loki looks up at the ugly face above him, sees mockery there, lust and desire to hurt, to humiliate. He forgets the mystery of blue skin for a moment, forces his mouth to form equally derisive smirk. He does the hardest thing he's ever done – with steady hands he grabs the creature's hips – and thrusts back.

 

///

 

The bargaining was amusing to watch.

 

Builder's demands were as ridiculous as they were bold. The Sun, the Moon, and Freya? He was lucky the deranged woman didn't skewer him with her hairpins the moment he uttered those words. Even Odin had hard time schooling his face into impassive expression.

 

So they went at it for days. Sun and Moon and Freya were replaced with 'just Freya' then, refused, demanded again, refused again, and really, they haven't had such fun in a while.

 

Few women yelled they'd marry him just so he can shut up and start working already – he didn't want them. On and on, on and on. How about some other goddess, they are all beautiful, see, some are even willing?

 

Really, Thor and their friends were lucky Loki could teleport and bring some food and mead so they didn't have to miss out on anything. 

 

Well into the fourth day, the builder's eyes settled on him. And didn't leave.

 

*

 

'No', Odin flat out refused. He was not trying to be impassive anymore – anger leaked off of him in waves.

 

'Then give me Sun, Moon and Freya'

 

'I refuse', the stuborn woman screeched when it looked like Odin was seriously considering it this time.

 

'I am not giving my son to you', Odin's voice was final. The silence stretched, and nobody dared breathe.

 

'For one year, then', the builder said. 'I will build this wall in one year, and you will give him to me for one year. Not a day less and not a day more.'

 

Every head turned to Loki's direction, and he uncomfortably shifted, suddenly wishing he was somewhere, anywhere else.

 

Odin seemed to be _considering._

 

No, Loki wanted to shout. So far it has been a good laugh, don't spoil it now, Father, please, Father don't…

 

'It doesn't sound like a bad deal', someone whispered. Objectively, Loki could agree. Objectively. Deep breath. Thor was looking at him as if he'll break, and he allowed himself to be annoyed at it – he wasn't a weak little kid, thank you very much.

 

'It's still preposterous, don't you think?' another voice, somewhere behind. 'I mean, asking for a prince, that's a bit too much'

 

Yes. Yes. Loki whole-heartedly agreed. He didn't want to be tied down to anyone, not now, not yet, not ever, not even for a year.

 

Odin was still _thinking,_ and the builder was starting to smirk.

 

Thor was whispering something about killing, and Loki couldn't help amused snort. Which made Odin turn to him. Loki didn't like the expression on his face one bit.

 

*

 

Then the builder somehow extracted an oath that they wont't try to sabotage his work, and leave him and his horse alone. (The horse was unexpected too, since he said he would do it alone, but then again, horse wasn't a person, either, so they let that slide.)

Loki was cornered into agreeing. Really, what could he have done when Odin already gave his consent (along with 'you better treat him really well, or _else_.'That was a little comforting. Not enough to placate him, but it was the thought that counted, or so he heard.)

So he yielded, but not before drawling: 'Well, if he is really that desperate to get laid…' which made the builder turn red and everybody else laugh.

Loki is going to make him regret ever getting the sole idea of making deals with Asgardians.

///

But that was before the whole farce ended and builder revealed himself to be a frost giant – mocking blow to the assembled party that was gathered to see them off.

But there was a deal. There was a deal. Monster had really done this part, and Loki won't let it be said the House of Odin is house of oathbreakers. He stopped Thor's hand when he reached for Mjolnir; without a backward glance to his family he stepped onto Bifrost. Monster was smirking, and Loki won't be intimidated. He raises one eyebrow at him, a silent 'Is that all?'

He will give as good as he gets.

*

But that was before his skin turned blue.

*

Somehow word gets around that the Jotun got himself an Asgardian prince. Loki can see them sauntering in the darkness and snowfall, curious and mocking, tauting him, so far away from the place of warmth and gold.

He can adapt. He is water. Even if he's turning into ice, slowly. Ice can be melted, and then it's water again. He wanders around when his captor (because that's what he is) doesn't demand him in his bed.

Such desolate place – nothing that speaks there might be a civilisation around.

(I can't be one of them.)

Sounds like whistling winter winds, and he knows they are laughing when his captor asks (asks – ha ha) him to return to bed.

He plasters on a smirk that conveys 'you are nothing but a dirt beneath my feet; you are scum lower than animals'. He will never give them satisfaction of breaking him.

Let them watch. Let them watch and know just what Loki Odinsson is made of.

'You don't mind if somebody joins us, do you?' and Norns, he will kill this Jotun, slowly, very slowly when the year passes.

'I don't care', he replies coolly. 'I was getting bored of you anyway'

That silences the laughter sounds, but doesn't endear him to them one bit.

*

But that was before he found himself _pregnant,_ of all things.

*

He doesn't want it, the thing growing inside him. He doesn't want any part of Jotun monster in his body. He doesn't understand how exactly it happened, but doesn't want it. Doesn't want it.

'Good little bitch', the frost giant whispers to him, taunting, taunting. 'I'll make a Jotun out of you in the end.'

He can't think of a way to kill the parasite without endangering himself.

(I can't be one of them.)

But he suspects, in his heart of heart, and that hurts more than anything this place, these savages can throw at him.

*

He snaps the thing's neck barely a minute after it's born, blue and deformed, and the rebuke is brutal. He is still bleeding onto the clear snow when the monster sends him flying. The shards of ice dig into his skin when he lands, and he doesn't get a moment of respite before the creature descends upon him again.

Worth it, he thinks as magic comes alive in his fingertips, worth it worth it worth it, and he fights back with all he has.

*

Jotun doesn't touch him again, and he spends his time healing, ignoring. The year is almost up. Almost up.

That monster is going to regret every single moment of humiliation and pain it put him through.

He is not steel, but water can freeze, and ice can burn sharper than fire.

*

He steps on the Bifrost, calm and clean and ready to come home.

(Is it home, though?)

*

He is water. He is still water. He did not crumble, he did not break.

But the funny thing – perhaps water can't be broken and bent - but it can be _poisoned._

 


End file.
